


They Confound the Stars

by kjack89



Series: Star Trek AU [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 06:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2219748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Half-Vulcan Combeferre realizes he's jealous of Captain Enjolras's relationship with Mr. Grantaire. So of course, he decides to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Confound the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I was prompted with Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre, but I am terrible at polyamory so tried to hide it in something else.
> 
> Usual disclaimer applies. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

“Captain, I realize I am only a science officer, but I feel obligated to point out that this plan violates not just one but three different Starfleet Regulations, in addition to having immense odds of failure.”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes at Combeferre. “Well, firstly, you’re not just a science officer, you are one of my closest friends and most trusted advisors. And secondly, in what part of the universe do you think that advising me to do something because it’s  _against_  the rules would work out for you?”

Combeferre considered that for a long moment, his slightly green brow furrowed as he pondered it. “I concede that is a valid point regarding your tendency to flout the rules, though my own point about the odds of failure still stands,” he said finally. “But if I am one of your most trusted advisors, why is that not enough to get you to listen to my advice?”

Sighing, Enjolras leaned back in the captain’s chair on the bridge of the USS  _Musain_ , a  _Constitution_ class starship. Ordinarily, things ran incredibly smoothly under his watch — if you counted ‘smoothly’ as breaking more Starfleet regulations during his first two years as captain than any other in Starfleet history. He’d also been accused — though the accusations had never been proven in large part because of Combeferre’s liberal interpretation of mandatory reporting rules — of inciting rebellion on a number of planets, including, in some cases, against Starfleet or its subsidiaries. It was everything he had ever wanted by joining Starfleet.

And it didn’t hurt that he was simultaneously regarded as the best and worst captain Starfleet had seen in years.

But while normally his crew was generally in favor of even his more harebrained plans, today, Combeferre had put his foot down on Enjolras’s plan to launch an outreach mission to the Klingon Empire in hopes of perhaps starting to destabilize at least the stretch of the Empire on its outer planets. Starfleet and the Klingon empire were on unstable terms, to say the least, and launching such a mission was not only against regs, as Combeferre had noted, but could probably be considered a suicide mission (as Courfeyrac had noted from engineering before Enjolras cut the intercom).

“Because I think this is important,” Enjolras said stubbornly in response to Combeferre’s question. “Because while our mission may ostensibly be to go where no man, woman, child, genderneutral or fluid individual, agender individual, etc., has gone before, perhaps what what’s truly bold is to go where one  _has_  gone before, and failed, to try to do better than our forefathers, to—”

What had the sound of a very promising and rousing speech was cut off by Grantaire, who slumped onto the bridge, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Combeferre looked dispassionately at him. “The Captain is trying to convince us of the merits of sending a diplomatic mission to Klingon.”

“What?” Grantaire snapped, glaring at Enjolras. “Enjolras, no.”

Enjolras scowled. “Firstly, it’s ‘captain’, secondly—”

“No, firstly it’s a damn stupid idea that’s liable to get everyone on board this ship killed,” Grantaire said impatiently. “Secondly, it’s a fantastic idea in theory that needs about two more years of working out the details before even considering moving forward with it. Thirdly, Enjolras — no.”

There was a brief moment where Enjolras and Grantaire just stared at each other, Enjolras’s normally glorious face still in a scowl, Grantaire’s expression neutral saved for his raised eyebrow as he calmly met Enjolras’s scowl. Finally, Enjolras sighed and shook his head. “Fine. But Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and I are going to be discussing the merits of this proposal and ways to go about actually enacting it, and I expect every single one of you to help with that.”

No one protested, though Enjolras and Grantaire examined each other for a long moment. Then Grantaire said, “Perhaps you and I should discuss this further in private.” After a brief time, Enjolras nodded, and followed Grantaire off the bridge, leaving the rest, including Combeferre, behind.

Combeferre couldn’t help but feel a little…put out by the whole situation. He knew that Enjolras almost always listened to his advice, so it shouldn’t upset him that he had put Grantaire’s advice above his. And, in fact, since it was the same result, logic told him it shouldn’t have mattered at all.

But the half of Combeferre that was human felt slighted and even a little angry that Enjolras had ignored Combeferre’s logical reason for not going through with his plan and instead gone with Grantaire’s half-assed excuse for reasoning. Of course, everything that Grantaire did was half-assed, and while Enjolras seemed content with that, Combeferre couldn’t help but feel that Enjolras deserved more.

It was an odd feeling, especially for a Vulcan — though indeed Vulcan’s felt more strongly than humans, in many ways. But this feeling that seemed to curl around Combeferre’s heart and threaten never to let go, that was one with which he was not particularly well-acquainted. He had never truly felt this way before but knew enough of human emotions to categorize it: jealousy.

For Combeferre to be jealous, though, implied a certain level of intimacy with Enjolras — or perhaps merely desire for intimacy with Enjolras — that went perhaps beyond the boundaries of crewmember and captain. And Combeferre wasn’t entirely sure what that implied about his feelings for Enjolras. Certainly he respected him and enjoyed his company, but beyond that, well. Combeferre normally did not try to give either voice or credence to his feelings beyond that. But when he stopped to think about it, certainly there was no one else he felt closer to, and he could not help but think that when pon farr came upon him, Enjolras would certainly be his most reasonable choice for the empathetic bond he must form.

The complication in that manner remained, as it always seemed to, Grantaire. Grantaire was Enjolras’s lover, of that there had not been any doubt since they were all at Starfleet Academy. And Grantaire was complication in more than just that. He had never truly fit in well with the bridge and those who professed to not only be Enjolras’s closest friends but his crewmates and sworn lieutenants as well. In fact, Grantaire would not even be on the USS  _Musain_  if not for Joly, the chief medical officer, using a loophole in regulations.

But regardless of his own individual merits, Grantaire posed nothing of a threat to Combeferre, save where Enjolras was concerned. And that thought disturbed Combeferre most of all.

Why should he have a lingering resentment because Enjolras choose to take Grantaire’s advice over his? Why should he feel that Enjolras should trust him more, respect him more, perhaps, even, love him more? He had never given Enjolras any reason to feel that way, but he could not help but desire it now.

It was a confusing mess of emotions that he felt, all centering around a certain bitterness towards Grantaire’s position with Enjolras.

And thus there was only one thing he could do, logically speaking — talk to Grantaire.

Humans with their convoluted emotions were not known for confronting the problem directly at the source, but Combeferre felt the opposite. And, if he was honest, confronting his envy of Grantaire was easier than having to admit to Enjolras the lingering feelings that he could not quite put to words.

So he endeavored to find Grantaire as soon as possible, and have this conversation with him.

* * *

 

“Grantaire,” Combeferre said formally, entering Grantaire’s room. “May I speak to you?”

“Aren’t you already?” Grantaire asked, amused, though he waved a dismissive hand, indicating that Combeferre could come inside. “What can I do for you? Can I interest you in some alcohol or a sarcastic comment? Beyond that, I’m probably not much use.”

Combeferre frowned. “Certainly you are of use,” he protested. “You are of use to Enjolras, at the very least, and as our captain, what is useful to him is useful to all of us.”

Grantaire frowned at Combeferre and indicated that he should take a seat. “It’s funny you should mention Enjolras,” he said carefully. “I can’t help but notice that you and he are excellent friends and colleagues. But surely that means you have to realize that what’s useful to Enjolras may, in fact, not be useful in the long run. Some of his more stubborn ideals have had particularly poor effects, and I may very well be one of them.”

“I’ve never noticed that,” Combeferre said mildly. “All of Enjolras’s interests have had important impacts on this ship, yourself included.”

Tapping his finger lightly against his chin, Grantaire asked, “And I suppose that’s what you’re here about? Enjolras’s interest in me, or else, my relative utility? Because I promise I can no more explain it than even your Vulcan mind can.”

Combeferre shook his head. “Half-Vulcan,” he corrected automatically. “And my logic can explain it, as best as any logic can explain something of this ilk: Enjolras loves you.”

Grantaire snorted. “Oh, yes, that explains so much. Enjolras loves me, messed up ol’ me with my metaphors and drinking and general cynicism, when even I know that he would be so much better off with someone like you, someone I couldn’t possibly compete with in terms of intellect and a mutual respect. I could never hope to even come close to matching that.”

“But you have so much more than that,” Combeferre countered. “The one thing that the captain has always been consistently drawn towards is warmth and the human tendency towards growth and change. You are the embodiment of everything that Enjolras has ever worked towards, and undoubtedly remain his greatest challenge. For that alone, you are perfect for him, and anyone who disagreed would not understand Enjolras at all.” He looked away from Grantaire, measuring his words and tone before saying carefully, “Whereas what I could offer Enjolras could come from any of our number.”

For a long moment, Grantaire just stared at Combeferre, then shook his head. “I’m confused,” he said slowly. “I assumed you came in here to tell me that Enjolras is too good for me, which, you know, you wouldn’t hear me argue against. But, uh, now it sounds like you’re trying to convince me that I _am_  good enough for Enjolras? And I admit that is not how I saw this conversation going.”

Combeferre shook his head slowly, taking another moment to formulate his words. As a half-Vulcan, he had never shared Grantaire and Enjolras’s talents for saying the first thing that came to mind, and especially never had the talent to make the first thing that sprang to mind be cutting and witty and perfect for the situation — just another thing that Grantaire had more in common with Enjolras than he. “I did not come here to condemn your relationship with the captain,” he said slowly. “I came only because I realized that I…to borrow a phrase from your vernacular, I suppose, I have feelings for him.”

“I didn’t realize Vulcans could have feelings,” Grantaire said mildly, then shook his head. “Sorry, that was rude. I mean, I didn’t realize Vulcans could develop romantic feelings.”

“Indeed they can, and quite deeply, though I understand your thinking in that regard,” Combeferre acknowledged, inclining his head slightly. “In many ways, our feelings can run very deep in that way, though I am unsure that I would define my feelings toward Enjolras as romantic in nature. It is more an — attachment, I suppose, rooted in our intellectual pursuits, but one that has spread beyond that.”

Grantaire nodded slowly before asking hesitantly, “Do you…do you, uh, want him? Physically? Like, um—”

Combeferre cut him off before he could embarrass himself too badly. “Vulcans do not have the same necessities toward a physical relationship.” He hesitated as well before adding, “Certainly I would not be opposed. The captain is a very physically appealing human, and combining that with our shared ideals…”

He trailed off and would have blushed were he inclined toward that, but Grantaire just nodded slowly. “And I certainly can’t compete with you in that regard either.” He shrugged. “Well, the answer is an obvious one. We would each bring something to Enjolras that he probably needs or at least wants, so why make him choose? I love him enough to want him to be happy, and realistic enough to realize that I may not be enough to make him truly happy.”

Combeferre stared at Grantaire. “Are you suggesting a ménage à trois?”

“A ménage à trois, a polyamorous relationship, an open relationship, whatever you want to call it.” Grantaire shrugged. “Again, I want Enjolras to be happy, and I want to keep what I have with him. Seeing as how we’ve got three more years on this godforsaken mission, it only makes sense to share a small part of him so long as I can keep what I have.”

“Historically speaking, Western humans since the Victorian era have not had an extensive history of accepting non-monogamous relationships. In fact, I would put the odds at a relationship of this nature lasting at approximately—”

Grantaire interrupted him with a curt, “Never tell me the odds.” He hesitated, then reached out to touch Combeferre’s arm gently. “I’m not most humans, and I’ve been thinking about this since…well, since the day Enjolras and I got together, really.” He flashed Combeferre a sudden smile. “Besides, I’m not exactly threatened by a pointy-eared bastard.”

Combeferre didn’t laugh but did smile, slightly, but then paused and asked, carefully, “What does this mean for you and I? Certainly in some polyamorous relationships, the affection is shared among all partners, whereas in other arrangements…”

He trailed off, and Grantaire laughed. “Look, we’ve got to get Enjolras on board with this before deciding anything, don’t you think? You and I happen to be in love with the same man, and from there, well — they have a saying where I’m from: ‘Don’t put the cart before the horse’.”

Combeferre nodded seriously. “But tell me, which one of us is meant to be the cart, and which the horse? Because your position preference may inform my feelings in that regard.”

Grantaire gaped at him. “Is that supposed to be some kind of sexual innuendo?”

Combeferre just shrugged. “A Vulcan cannot lie,” he told Grantaire, then briefly smiled. “So yes, it was.”

Grantaire laughed, then hesitated before leaning in and kissing Combeferre lightly on the lips. It was a quick kiss, a peck more than anything, and Combeferre did not even have a chance to react before Grantaire pulled back, though he didn’t seem panicked, more satisfied than anything. “Well. We can certainly work on that.”

“We can try,” Combeferre agreed. “But as you noted, first, we must get the captain on board.”

Nodding, Grantaire stood and pulled Combeferre up, telling him blithely, “Very true, and that’s your job, pointy.”

“My job?” Combeferre protested, following Grantaire out into the hall. “Why must it be my job?”

“Because that’s how this is gonna work, bub,” Grantaire told him. “You get to seduce him with logic and intellect and all that, while I get to seduce him with being an asshole if that doesn’t work.”

Combeferre paused before smiling again. “I’m beginning to think, Mr. Grantaire, that this plan might just work.”

Grantaire grinned. “My plans normally do.”


End file.
